


Operation: Lockdown

by asideofourown



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Is Trying (Good Omens), Don't copy to another site, Dramatic Rescue, Episode: Good Omens: Lockdown, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Post-Canon, crowley is a dork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23993200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asideofourown/pseuds/asideofourown
Summary: “Goodnight, angel,” Crowley said slowly, and hung up the phone.  He bit his lip, hesitating.  Something had been… off about that call, right?  He wasn’t just imagining things, lonely after weeks of isolation?  Because he thought, maybe, that... that Aziraphale might be in trouble.Crowley stared down at Aziraphale’s contact photo, a slightly blurry picture of the beaming angel in front of the duck pond at Saint James’ park, and then muttered, “Fuck.”He scrambled up from where he had been lounging on his throne, rounding his desk and rooting around in the drawer for something to write on.  He found an old notebook and a pen he had stolen the last time he went to the bank, and scribbled down at the top of the first clean page,HOW TO SAVE AZIRAPHALE FROM THEBASTARDSANGELS HOLDING HIM HOSTAGE[Crowley jumps to conclusions and stages a dramatic rescue]
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 91
Kudos: 375
Collections: Good Omens Lockdown fics





	Operation: Lockdown

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charlottemadison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottemadison/gifts).



> SO IT'S BEEN 2 DAYS and here's another lockdown fic. I couldn't resist the brilliant fic idea that [charlottemadison](https://charlottemadison42.tumblr.com/) dropped in the GO Events server, and the subsequent yelling and flailing in the chat helped inspire this.
> 
> Again, because of the subject matter of the lockdown video there is some discussion of quarantine, but I've tried to keep things vague.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Goodnight, angel,” Crowley said slowly, and hung up the phone.He bit his lip, hesitating.Something had been… off about that call, right?He wasn’t just imagining things, lonely after weeks of isolation?

Maybe he was imagining the way Aziraphale had sounded, almost desperately cheerful as though he were trying to project calm.Maybe he was reading too far into the way Aziraphale had stridently insisted he obey the lockdown restrictions, even though it was a well-established part of their dance that it was Aziraphale’s role to hint and Crowley’s role to bend the rules to give them both enough plausible deniability for their old offices.Maybe he was going a little stir-crazy, a bit too ready to jump to conclusions after not seeing Aziraphale for several weeks.

Only… Crowley’s mind kept snagging on something, going over what Aziraphale had said, how he had sounded.Because the thing was, the Arrangement hadn’t just been an exchange of work— it was a complex web of clues and codes, a scaffolding of excuses and stories and loopholes that had allowed them to see each other for centuries without getting found out.

Since the Apocalypse, since they had finally admitted out loud that they were more than enemies, casual acquaintances, friends, they had more or less dispensed with their coded messages and oblique references.But that didn’t mean that either of them had forgotten the way they used to communicate, before they could speak openly.

And _that_ was what Crowley kept coming back to— Aziraphale had said on the phone, hesitant and quiet, with an odd weight to his words, “You’re a demon, you’ve got a job to do.”Back before the Apocalypse, during the Arrangement, especially when they had started trusting each other more, Aziraphale insisting that Crowley had a job to do had meant that… that Aziraphale needed help with something, and because of Heaven’s rules couldn’t do it himself.And in a post-(not)apocalyptic world, in which they were supposed to be free of Heaven and Hell, Aziraphale asking for help in that way must mean that he was in some sort of trouble he couldn’t get out of on his own, which _in turn_ must mean that it was of… Heavenly origin.

Crowley stared down at Aziraphale’s contact photo, a slightly blurry picture of the beaming angel in front of the duck pond at Saint James’ park, and then muttered, “ _Fuck_.”

He scrambled up from where he had been lounging on his throne, rounding his desk and rooting around in the drawer for something to write on.He found an old notebook and a pen he had stolen the last time he went to the bank, and scribbled down at the top of the first clean page, _HOW TO SAVE AZIRAPHALE FROM THE_ ~~ _BASTARDS_~~ _ANGELS HOLDING HIM HOSTAGE_

“Right,” Crowley muttered, settling himself again and tapping the pen against his lips.“What am I working with?”In his head, he quickly ran over everything he and Aziraphale had said to each other.

Obviously, Aziraphale had been speaking in code from the very beginning, knowing that Crowley would eventually catch on.He must have used his one phone call (that was a hostage thing, right?) to call Crowley, to tell him in code that he was being held against his will in his bookshop by revenge-thirsty angels, and that Crowley had to come and rescue him from their evil clutches.So what, exactly, had Aziraphale’s clever code conveyed?

First off, he had suggested that Crowley ought to be out and about despite the current rules— a clear indication that he needed _Crowley_ to come and rescue him, and that he would have to come in person.He had also suggested Crowley get 'ominously close,' which meant a rescue from afar just wouldn’t do— Crowley would have to be there, get his hands dirty fighting off Aziraphale’s dastardly captors.

Aziraphale had also mentioned a party, which had to mean that multiple angels were holding him captive. Crowley did some quick research, and then jotted down on his planning sheet that there must be between five and ten angels— that was the proper number for a birthday party, according to the first article that Google gave him, and in all honesty Crowley didn’t think he’d be able to fight off more than ten angels anyway.

Crowley rubbed his chin and then scratched out on his paper, _boys that broke in to steal till = not first attempt to capture?_ If that was true, this was worse than he had thought.He had to hurry, and figure out what Aziraphale had meant as quickly as possible.Crowley wracked his brain, trying to remember the cakes Aziraphale had listed out— each clearly a clever clue for who was with him in the bookstore.

Bundt cake: supposedly of American origin, which meant that Gabriel and his annoying accent were definitely behind this.

Sponge cake: the first recipe had been recorded in 1615, which was (entirely not coincidentally, just as Aziraphale had intended him to understand!) the year Crowley had almost gotten discorporated by a surprise inspection at Aziraphale’s old flat by Uriel.

Angel’s food cake: made with whipped egg whites, which was obviously intended to remind Crowley of the time he had accidentally egged what turned out to be the car Sandalphon had been using while on Earth to help Aziraphale with some blessing assignment in the 1990s.

Sourdough, specifically four kinds:according to angel-symbolism-r-we.co.uk, the number four was associated with practical matters, seriousness, and order, which was Michael to a _tee._

And finally there was Schwarzwälder Kirschtorte, or Black Forest gateau: _obviously_ a callback to the time Aziraphale and Crowley had spent a year camping together in the Black Forest of Germany back in the 16th century, accidentally assigned to influence the same peasant uprising before Aziraphale had been recalled for reassignment by the Metatron himself!So this went _all the way_ to the top.

Crowley wrote those five names— Gabriel, Uriel, Sandalphon, Michael, and Metatron— on the top of his paper, and then anxiously bit his lip.That was… a lot.But there was no way he _wasn’t_ going to go rescue Aziraphale.

Aziraphale had even asked, begged, even!Practically, anyway— he had sounded so scared when he claimed Crowley coming to see him would be against the rules, which made Crowley positively _boil_ with anger.He’d have a _fantastic_ time fighting those blasted angels off, if it would keep Aziraphale safe.

And in terms of code, Aziraphale had said it outright: he had said, “although I had to miracle in the cherries.”It was clear as day, A-I-H-T-M-I-T-C stood for _Am in hostage trap, mayday, I trust Crowley._ He trusted Crowley to come for him, to help him.Crowley _couldn’t_ let him down.(And… and even if it turned out that Aziraphale was fine, that Crowley was misreading everything, well… it was better safe than sorry.Anyway, Aziraphale couldn’t possibly criticize him for attempting a heroic rescue, so if anything it was a convenient excuse to visit the bookshop).

“Right,” Crowley said out loud, setting his pen down with a clack and getting to his feet.He had a rescue to plan, and he had to be quick about it.

Crowley strode from his office to his bedroom, and flung open the closet door.Quickly, he miracled his clothes to something more suitable— pajamas were great for lounging around his flat when there was no one to see him, but they were in no way good for a dramatic rescue.Once clad in more appropriate black skinny jeans, a black button down with the top three buttons undone, a black leather jacket, and his black faux-snakeskin boots, he pulled his hair up into a ponytail— lockdown had given him the opportunity to grow it out again, and he would hate for it to get in his eyes at a critical moment during the fight that was sure to come.

Crowley grabbed his grappling hook, his night-vision goggles (not that he needed them to see, but it was the spirit of the thing), and a hellfire-forged dagger.He hesitated before leaving hellfire candles at home— the thought of fire anywhere _near_ Aziraphale and his shop made him shudder.

Crowley took a deep breath, readied himself to fight, and nodded at himself just once in the mirror by the door as he prepared to leave his flat.“Alright, Anthony J. Crowley,” he said to his own reflection, and went for a brave smile.It wasn’t shaky, at least, although he looked a little queasy.“Let’s do this.Let’s go rescue our angel from those fucking winged wankers holding him hostage.” 

* * *

Aziraphale was definitely having a _lovely_ , entirely _relaxing_ evening. He had baked himself a delicious apple tart earlier in the day, and despite the late hour had decided that it was high time he had a slice or two. 

Perhaps, he reluctantly admitted to himself as he cut a generous slice of tart and poured himself a glass of port, he was just a bit melancholy after his call with Crowley. There was no denying that he was enjoying all of his quiet reading time, but… he _did_ miss his best friend and lover. Their relationship was still somewhat new, and they had decided when the time had come to isolate in their own spaces (neither quite realizing how long it would be), and while they talked all the time it just wasn’t the _same_. It was more important to obey the rules of lockdown, though, to set an example— at least, for an _angel_ , it was. _Demons_ had to follow no such rules. 

Aziraphale pursed his lips, settling himself in his armchair and taking a bite of tart. He had hoped he was being rather obvious, on their phone call— hinting that Crowley oughtn't follow the rules as was his near _duty_ as a demon, and that Aziraphale had plenty of cake to share so long as Crowley could make it without ‘slithering over’ outside— but it seemed as though he had missed the mark. Crowley was going to nap until July, apparently, which meant that he wouldn’t be available for their biweekly phone calls. 

Aziraphale sighed, sipping his port. Perhaps he ought to call back tomorrow, in the hope of catching Crowley before he settled in for his slumber. He would have to think about how to be just a tad more _obvious_ in his hinting that he really did want Crowley to come over, he just couldn’t say so outright. Crowley was a dear, and _ever_ so considerate to take Aziraphale at his word, and their dancing around each other for so long had set some patterns of avoidance and obfuscation that they were both still trying to break. 

Aziraphale ate a few more bites of tart before setting his plate aside and picking up his book. Maybe he ought to just say what he meant outright, he thought as he paged through to where he had left off. Crowley deserved directness, after all this time. Aziraphale could be brave. He _would_ be. 

Aziraphale lifted his glass to his lips, but a sound from the second floor of the bookshop made him pause. It was almost a scritching noise, like the sound mice might make in the walls, only Aziraphale most _definitely_ did not have mice. 

Eyes narrowing, Aziraphale set his drink and his book down and got to his feet. The sound came again as he silently padded towards the main room of the bookshop, and this time sounded less like mice and more like footsteps. Aziraphale exhaled softly and took off his reading glasses before he opened a few eyes on the ethereal plane, searching for the source of the disturbance. 

In the rafters of the bookshop there was a dark spot, an aura that reeked of hellishness and evil, and Aziraphale bristled for just a moment before he recognized the aura’s familiar snakiness. He blinked, closing his extra eyes again, and then called out hesitantly, “Crowley, is that you?” 

He thought he heard a whispered curse before there was a thump, and Crowley dropped to the floor of the bookshop. It was probably meant to look cool, fluid and athletic, but Crowley was a bit impeded by the little dagger in one hand and the grappling hook clutched in the other. Or maybe he had intended to land on his bum, it was hard to tell with him sometimes. 

“What are you—“ Aziraphale started, confused and perhaps mildly concerned, but he didn’t manage to finish before Crowley staggered to his feet and bared his teeth, looking wildly around the bookshop. 

“Say your prayers, bastards!” he shouted, brandishing his dagger fiercely, and then he froze. He made eye contact with Aziraphale (his pupils were blown wide, visible even behind the thick glass of his… his night vision goggles? _Goodness,_ Aziraphale loved him) and then spun in a slow circle before quickly crossing the floor. “Aziraphale,” he said hoarsely, stopping just short of pulling Aziraphale into a hug. “You’re— you’re alright?” 

Aziraphale smiled, still a little puzzled, and gave Crowley a quick hug. “I am, dear,” he said, even as it all slowly came together in his mind. Crowley was here, had snuck in with his best spy gadgets with the clear intent of fighting someone off. He had seemed scared, for some reason, and then relieved once he realized that Aziraphale wasn’t in danger. So, for some reason, he must have thought that Aziraphale was in danger, and he had come to _save_ him. 

That thought warmed Aziraphale from the inside out, and he might have started to glow just a bit with love. Crowley was stiff in his arms for just a moment and then he let his grappling hook fall to the floor so he could hug Aziraphale back with one arm. 

“I got your message, angel,” he murmured, his breath warm against Aziraphale’s ear. “Are they still here?” 

Aziraphale bit his lip. Surely it couldn’t hurt to play along, and anyway, it was so sweet that Crowley would come and rescue him even in lockdown. It made Aziraphale love him even more, and he hadn’t even realized that adding to infinity was possible. Aziraphale exhaled and then murmured back, “They… just left. I told them you were on your way and they were so terrified that they turned tail and ran.” 

Crowley pulled back, holding Aziraphale at arm’s length and giving him a thorough look over. “And you’re alright?” he said worriedly. “They didn’t hurt you?” 

“I’m perfectly tip-top,” Aziraphale promised. “Not a scratch.” 

Crowley swallowed hard, stuffed his dagger through the belt loop of his jeans, pulled his night vision goggles off and dropped them, and then gave Aziraphale a proper hug. “I’m glad you’re alright,” he whispered, sounding a bit choked up, and then kissed Aziraphale fervently. 

Aziraphale kissed him back, clutching at his leather jacket, pressing close. After a wonderful make-out session (and it _had_ been a while, hadn’t it? Aziraphale hadn’t realized how much he missed kissing Crowley), Aziraphale finally stepped back a bit and said, “You ought to stay. At least for now. You know, in case they come back.” 

Crowley eyed him, a few loose strands of hair falling over his forehead, and then smiled slightly. “To _protect_ you?” 

Aziraphale nodded firmly. “Quite so.” 

Crowley cocked his head, and Aziraphale could tell then that he had cottoned on to the fact that there had been no danger, that Aziraphale had just been playing along. “Sounds like I have no choice, then, but to stay here,” Crowley said, and smirked. “Would hate to leave you vulnerable. I’ll just have to stay very, _very_ close.” 

Aziraphale beamed back. “Oh, _yes_ ,” he said a little breathlessly. “I _would_ appreciate it.” 

Crowley winked (or tried to— six thousand years, and he hadn’t quite gotten the hang of it, which probably wasn’t helped by the fact that even blinking didn’t come naturally to him). Aziraphale pretended to swoon, and then took his hand and kissed his knuckles. “Would my hero like some cake?” he offered. “I have a _bit_ too much apple tart to eat myself, you know.” 

Crowley’s smile softened from rakish to adoring. “That sounds great, angel,” he said. “You know what I like.” 

“I do,” Aziraphale replied with a fond smile. He sobered slightly, and said in a soft voice, "Thank you for coming for me, Crowley... any danger or lack thereof notwithstanding." 

Crowley gazed at him, positively soppy. "Of course, Aziraphale," he replied. "I'll always come to help you. Whether you need it or not." 

"Thank you, dearest," Aziraphale laughed. "I'm glad to know you're here to protect me."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, I really hope you enjoyed! I'm [here](https://asideofourown.tumblr.com/) if that's something you're into


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